


Seheron's Aftermath

by Jamjam494



Series: Seheron's Chronicle [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, But I'm not sure if it's good or not, Developing Relationship, Dorian has a secret, Icy Reaver Dorian, M/M, OOC Dorian, there's porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:04:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jamjam494/pseuds/Jamjam494
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Dorian was born under slightly different circumstances that lead him to fight in Seheron, where he met Hissrad. Things happen and they meet again in Redcliffe. A bit of plot, a dash of smut, and we have some semblance of a story. </p><p>Also, in the story Dorian favors ice magic, and isn't a necromancer.</p><p>Also this wasn't beta-read, so there may be plenty of grammar mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seheron's Aftermath

The Iron Bull knew something was off the minute they stepped into Redcliffe. It honestly wasn't the fact that this Fiona person didn't remember inviting the Herald to talk, as suspicious as that was he just chalked it up to some weird magic. No, what tipped off the Iron Bull was a smell; something lingering on this Felix character. It was faint, and he _knew_ that smell, he just couldn't place it. But there was definitely something familiar, and it churned in his guts (and somewhat in his crotch). When they left the tavern to follow the note the sickly man had given Trevelyan the smell only got stronger, and he needed to know. By the time she opened the Chantry door Bull's mind was starting to muddle, caught in a mix of rage and arousal. It took everything he had just to keep a small degree of focus, but when they caught sight of the man inside the memory of the smell flooded back, alongside a few other nasty ones.

 

“Good, you're finally here. Now help me close this would you?”

 

\---

 

The following fight ended quickly, and Bull was immediately annoyed. The 'Vint bastard hadn't even tried, content to shove his staff blade into a few demons while Trevelyan's party took care of the rest. When the rogue closed the rift the bastard just chuckled.

 

“Fascinating, how does that work exactly?” he queried, but continued before the Herald could even respond. “You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes.”

 

Trevelyan simply brushed her ginger hair out of her face and raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

 

“Ah, getting ahead of myself again I see,” the mage replied, a subtle smirk forming. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Seheron.” At the mention of Seheron Bull fumed internally. A subtle glance his way proved that yup, the mage definitely remembered him. However as quickly as he'd looked at Bull he returned his gaze to the Herald. “How do you do?”

 

“Watch yourself,” The Bull cut in, voice grave from memories of the 'Vint. “The pretty ones are always the worst.”

 

Bull had hoped Dorian would take the bait and show that temper he knew from Seheron, but instead the bastard just grinned and addressed the Herald. “Suspicious friends you have here.”

 

Bull just knew this day was going to suck.

 

\---

 

Dorian Pavus had a lot of time to think on the way back to Haven. He'd gone over the future they'd witnessed a thousand times already, and he'd calculated just how much of his ability to show this _Herald of Andraste_. He knew she'd been slightly shocked to see a mage with a staff that had more sword to it than actual staff, so when they entered combat he'd made sure to show her exactly why. He'd also shown her some of his magic; just enough to give her the idea that he was valuable. He'd laughed at the shock on her face when he lifted the gaurd off the ground with one hand and set him on fire, and he'd smirked at her amazement when he'd used his ice magic to speed across the floor, slicing two venatori in half on the way.

 

But his thoughts were currently occupied by the Qunari riding beside him. Hissrad. Of all the fucking people he could even meet again, of course it would be fucking Hissrad. The ox had made sure to keep within five feet of Dorian since they'd left Redcliffe, and if not for the way the brute smelled he'd almost be flattered.

 

He had to wonder though, why didn't Hissrad mention to the Herald that they knew each other? Surely the woman must have some knowledge of the Tevinter/Qunari war. And if you asked anyone in Thedas to describe Seheron they'd laugh and tell you it was the 'Vint's and Qunari's favorite playground. Perhaps she didn't know that Hissrad was Ben Hassrath? If such was the case then he'd have more fun here than he thought.

 

He didn't have to ask why the ox was here, that much was obvious. There way no way the Qunari would let a giant green tear in the sky go by without sending someone to watch it. But Hissrad? He was fairly certain after their last encounter the man had been re-educated, so why would the Qun send him away so quickly? Surely they'd keep him close to make sure the conditioning stuck. But no, here he was, head positioned so it looked like he was focused on the road, however Dorian knew the Ben Hassrath's eyes were trained on him. So of course he had to respond to the attention, he was raised to be polite after all.

 

“Hello Hissrad.”

 

“Shut up.” was Bull's stony reply. Dorian chuckled in his head and put on a clearly false hurt expression

 

“Aren't you happy to see me Hissrad? I figured you'd be delighted after all the time we spent in Seheron together. Or did they wipe that from your head when they rebuilt you?” Dorian couldn't help but pray the larger man took his bait, and he silently preened when a head snapped in his direction.

 

“The only time I'll ever be delighted to see you is the day I get to shove my axe down your throat,” Bull growled. Oh maker, this was fun.

 

“Oh Hissrad,” Dorian sighed wistfully, “you haven't changed a bit.”

 

The ride back to Haven may have been silent, but Dorian's persistent smirk spoke volumes.

 

\--- 

 

The Iron Bull loved Skyhold's tavern. He'd love it even more if he actually got to drink there, but as such, he spent most of his day following Dorian. And though initially it was a rather tiresome and tedious process he was starting to learn quite a bit.

 

The first was that the people of Skyhold hated Dorian with a passion rivaling Bull's own. The only people he'd ever seen the 'Vint hold a conversation with were the Commander (who almost squealed when the mage talked tactics) and the Inquisitor, who for some odd reason adored him. But every member of the inner circle bar Cole and Varric despised the Tevinter. Vivienne would never miss a chance to mock his staff, mention that her skills were far superior. Solas constantly berated Tevinter culture, made it his mission to point out the country's treatment of elves. Sera kept her distance while she mocked him for whatever reason she could think of, and always kept an arrow in her hands when on a mission involving him. Cassandra wasted no effort in informing the mage that she was 'on to his tricks' even though he'd shown no hint of an agenda besides stopping Corypheus. Blackwall was by far the cruelest though, and even the other members would interfere when he took it too far. His favorite way to poke at the 'Vint was to ridicule his attitude and sexuality. But Dorian never took their bait, didn't respond to a single barb.

 

No, Dorian only ever rose to Bull's baiting, which pleased the Qunari to no end. He hadn't quite figured out _exactly_ why he got a response, but he guessed it was the same reason Dorian got to him so easily. And if that was the reason, then Bull didn't want to dwell on it. Those thoughts had done their damage once upon a time and he swore he'd never do it again. Fucking Seheron.

 

\--- 

 

Evelyn Trevelyan prided herself on being a good judge of character. She always had been, and she hoped that ability would remain until her demise. And whenever she looked at Dorian she saw nothing more than a man who wanted to be better than his country. So she couldn't figure out why everyone in Skyhold hated him so ferociously. The man wasn't obnoxious or rude, kept to himself, and only bothered people when it was absolutely necessary. She'd go so far to say he'd done more for the Inquisition than any singular person so far, thanks to his research and his astounding combat prowess. Add the fact that he satisfied her curiosity of Tevinter culture any time she asked and the fact that he was friendly with Cullen (and she suspected he was attempting to help the man woo her) and Dorian was perfect.

 

She watched helplessly time and time again as other ridiculed and barked at him, some even going so far as to spit on him if he passed, and the only reason she didn't scream in his defense was that she knew he wouldn't appreciate it. She noticed his only reaction was to sigh tiredly and continue moving. She also noticed that the only time Dorian really reacted to anything was when she placed him near Bull. She wasn't even sure what started their fights some days.

 

Once she'd seen them both training in the courtyard, on opposites sides. One second they were completely focused, paying each other no mind, and a second later they were rushing at each other with clear intention to kill. Bull had dropped his axe, Doring mimicking with his staff, and they charged. Dorian had placed a barrier over his skin and covered his hands in icy claws, a clear mockery of Bull's reaver abilities, and Bull had his own claws ready. It took barely a minute for one of the few Templars to arrive and smite Dorian, and they'd all been awed when the move had no visible effect. The man honestly looked like he didn't even notice the smite, just kept clawing and grappling with Bull. She'd watched as the fight ended in a tie, both as silent as they were before fighting, and they simply walked off to mend their wounds. She'd never known a human that could match a Qunari in physical strength, nor a mage that could resist a smite. A glance in the Templar's direction proved that he hadn't either.

 

\--- 

 

Two months later and Dorian had all but given up baiting Hissrad. At first it had been fun, a way to taunt the bastard, and a way to show him that he did indeed have a weakness. But now, now it just hurt to know that Hissrad honestly _would_ rather see him dead than anything. The sad part was that even after Seheron, and his father, and Alexius, Dorian didn't hate the brute. No, he felt the same as he did all those years ago when they'd become stranded on the wrong end of that fucking island.

 

His father. What in the Black City had the Inquisitor been thinking taking Dorian to meet him? Was she truly that naive to believe the man simply wanted to apologize?! Halward Pavus was capable of a great many things, but admitting his wrongs would never be one.

 

His sigh was as tired as ever when he walked into the tavern. Thankfully it appeared to be empty. He supposed it should be, given how late it was. He ordered a dozen bottles of the strongest stuff he could think of and found a nice quiet corner to drink his sorrows away. He was used to doing that.

He should have known the quiet wouldn't last forever. Roughly half an hour had passed (and three bottles emptied) when he heard footsteps coming his way. He didn't have to look up to know those sounds. Hissrad; no one else could be silent and loud at the same time. What did make him look up was the sound of bottles being placed on his table and a chair being pulled out. What in the Maker's ass was going on?

 

“You're not the same man I knew in Seheron.” Bull stated simply. Dorian let out a humorless chuckle.

 

“And you Hissrad are exactly the same man I knew in Seheron,” the mage responded, his voice slurring slightly. “So what? Did you come here to state the obvious or have you finally come for my head? Cause if so at least let me get drunk enough to care.”

 

He knew Hissrad could hide a hundred different emotions under a single blank face, so he was surprised when the larger man didn't even try to hide his concern.

 

“What the fuck did Halward do to you? The man I remember would have shoved an ice shard through his chest and went on his fabulous way.”

 

“ _Vehendis_!” Dorian swore, “did that stupid woman tell everyone in the fucking keep?”

 

“You and I both know it would have gotten around anyway. I think people here hate you more than Corypheus.”

 

Dorian wanted to get mad, but he honestly didn't have it in him anymore. Instead he look Bull straight in the eye and asked, “Do you want to know why I smell absolutely irresistible to your kind?”

 

If he were in a better mood he would have laughed at how the Qunari perked up. He simply took the change as a yes and started talking.

 

“See, when my father got my mother pregnant the war with your lot was at its worst in decades. The Imperium was desperate to find a solution to end it, and one day a prick of a magister came up with an idea; the Qunari get stupid around dragons, so why not breed a mage with dragon blood? He was silenced rather quickly, but my father took notice, and within a few weeks he collected a surprising amount of dragon blood and performed a blood ritual. He knew the blood would give me strength beyond any human, and if it made my magic any stronger all the better.”

 

“The worst part was how quickly he went about the whole thing, never once considering it could permanently kill his heir, but I digress. It worked, and out popped little old me. As i go older it became apparent that thee blood had the intended effect. I was physically and magically stronger than most magisters my father's age, smarter too. Then he wanted to see what effect I would have on the Qunari. So he had some kidnapped and brought to the villa. The second they got near the damn house it were as though they were drugged, and it got worse the closer they got to me. They were also very apparent that I aroused them, if the erections were anything to go by. A few truth spells later it was discovered that I smelled like sex, and dragons, and violence, and everything else you savages love.”

 

“Then the decision was made for me to go to Seheron, where I spent a few years as you well know. And lo and behold, the Qunari were complete idiots around me, barely took any effort to kill. After everything that happened with you I want back to Qarinus and my father decided I should get married and have a child. I refused and told him I had no interest. My mistake was emphasizing human and women. So once again my father resorted to blood magic. This time though, it was to make me _appropriate,_ to remove my deviance. So I returned to Seheron until Felix told me his father's plan, then I made my way to Redcliffe, and blah blah blah here we are.”

 

\--- 

 

The Iron Bull was speechless. He knew that most magisters were complete assholes who liked to abuse blood magic but to use it own their unborn children as an _experiment_? No wonder Dorian was so fucked up. But he was glad to finally have an explanation for why he wanted to jump the pretty bastard every chance he could. It also explained Seheron. Explained those three weeks of raw lust and rage, three weeks of what was undoubtedly the best sex of his life. But it didn't explain what he said next.

 

“I almost became Tal-Vashoth for you.” The admission was quiet, and frankly it hurt to say. But he was glad in a way, that Dorian understood just what that meant and why it was a bad thing. Dorian may have been pretty, but he'd told Bull in those weeks that he'd learned as much Qunlat and Qunari tactics as he could to help the fight. Bull had been reluctantly impressed.

 

He couldn't tear his eyes away when Dorian looked at him, his expression raw and grim, and Bull hated it for a second. Hated the pain that Dorian wouldn't (couldn't?) hide, the unbridled lust, and the faintest hint of a memory neither wanted to remember. Fuck, the man sex itself, and Bull couldn't blame the dragon blood for the stirring in his pants.

 

“Want to forget for a night?” was Dorian's quiet response, and Bull honestly couldn't say no. With a speed that surprised even him he jumped from the table, grabbed Dorian and rushed to his room. He realized once inside that he didn't close the door, but apparently Dorian wasn't as drunk as he thought when he heard the slam.

 

He wasted no time plastering his mouth to the 'Vint's. And fuck, the man's lips tasted just as they had in Seheron; of whiskey and fire, and something he still couldn't place, but it was sweet and good and fucking fantastic! It made his blood sing, screamed at the savage nature Dorian loved to point out, and this, _this_ , was why he almost became a Tal-Vashoth.

 

That realization returned some of his focus, and he knew he had to stay away from the man's mouth, lest he lose his once again. So tossed Dorian onto the bed stomach first, and if Dorian's chuckle was anything to go by, he knew exactly the effect he was having. But that also meant he could talk and think about things that weren't Bull fucking him senseless. And that had to change.

 

It took him seconds to tear the robes from his prey, and only a few more to reach for the oil on the bedside table. He wasn't careful when he slicked up his fingers, and he certainly wasn't careful when he gracelessly shoved two into Dorian. The gasp/whine he got in response was ecstasy to his ears, was almost as potent as the smell clouding the room. With anyone else he would been gentle, taken his time to open his partner up, but the haze in his mind screamed to fuck, and claim, and mark and bruise. He'd barely gotten the third finger in when he pulled them all loose and slicked up his cock. He knew he started shaking as he pushed into that tight velvet heat but it didn't matter; this had to happen, and it had to happen now. He could feel Dorian shiver under him as he pressed as close as possible to the mage and started rutting, not leaving any space between them as he fucked into him. At least he wasn't the only one losing is damn mind. Dorian, a man he'd seen burn waves of Qunari with a smile, was reduced to a sobbing, begging mess under him. If The Bull were still capable of thought he wonder if he was the only one driven mad by the dragon blood.

 

He stilled momentarily, just long enough to get his hands under Dorian's stomach and pull the man even closer. Said man certainly wasn't complaining if the moans flying from his mouth were any indication. No, instead Dorian reached one of his own hands down to grasp at Bull's.

 

It still wasn't enough though. Wasn't close enough; Bull needed more. His subconscious screamed that it was a bad idea, but he ignored it in favor of removing one of his hands. Taking a handful of the mage's hair he twisted, made Dorian's head turn toward him and captured his mouth once again. This time he didn't let any stupid (sane) thought get in the way and thrust his tongue inside, needing that fucking taste. Dorian was completely pliant, letting both his mouth and ass be taken however he wanted, and Bull fucking _loved it._

 

All too soon Bull felt the familiar stirrings in his guts, that telltale sign that said he wasn't going to last long. So he released the man's mouth, shoved him face back into the bed and started pounding that tight ass. Barely a minute later he slammed to the root and felt his orgasm rip through him. It took him a second to realize the guttural roar he heard was coming from him, so the scream under it must have been Dorian. The wetness coating his hand agreed.

 

With no intention of pulling out he flipped them over, the smaller man still impaled on his cock as they panted. Neither made ay move our sound, aside from small jerks of their hips and ragged breath. The silence helped Bull regain a small modicum of sanity and he briefly thought that this was a terrible idea, but the stirring in his cock and the rolling of hips above told that sanity t shut the fuck up. As he moved his hands to said hips he figured they'd deal with it in the morning. He'd regret it.

 

\--- 

 

Dorian never woke up in steps. Years of war and booze and nightmares had trained him into instant wakefulness, and he'd never regretted it more than now. It was warm, too fucking warm, and he realized there were arms around him. And if the pain in his backside were any clue there was also a cock in him, a large one too he figured with a slight move of his hips. That's when the memories of the night decided to flood his mind, and he could have thrown up.

 

Oh Maker's sweaty balls he'd slept with Hissrad. Of all the stupid, moronic, insane things he could have done this was quite possibly the worst. This was bad, so very very bad. The last thing Dorian should have done was sleep with the fucking ox, it brought back too many painful memories. He felt the tears build in eyes as the words flooded back.

 

_When we make our way back I'm going back to Par Vollen._

 

_What, why?!_

 

_I'm going to go to the re-educators._

 

_What?! Hissrad you know what they'll do to you!_

 

_I do. But i have to go anyway._

 

_No you don't! We can leave this fucking shithole of an island and go south or something, they'll think we're both dead!_

 

_No._

_Hissrad they will change you!_

 

_Dorian... say it once more._

 

_What?_

 

_Say it. Please._

 

_I love you._

 

_I know. And I love you too, that's the problem._

 

\--- 

 

The following weeks saw a very different Dorian Pavus than most of Skyhold had known. Gone was the quiet man who kept to himself and refused to be baited. In his place stood a man confident to the point of being cocky, and and angry to the point of violence. The first sign of change was when he'd sought out Mother Giselle in the courtyard. He'd covered his left hand in an icy claw, put it against her throat, and in no uncertain terms told her that if she ever contacted his family again he cut out her tongue and hove it up her ass. The soldiers were too shocked to do anything, and by the time they came to their senses Dorian had walked away, a cruel smirk on his face.

 

Cullen wasn't sure what had happened to evoke the sudden change, but it made him worry for his friend. Dorian had far too many people willing to hate him as is, and now it seemed as though he were giving them a reason. Cullen figured the man simply needed to get all the anger out at once, so he approached Dorian with an idea. He wanted the man to teach the Templars and recruits how to fight a _real_ mage. Dorian had donned a truly terrifying grin and cackled as he walked to the appointed ground. Cullen had an uncomfortable feeling this wasn't going to end well.

 

He was right. Initially his soldiers seemed eager to show the 'Vint mage his place, and Cullen instructed them to line up to take their turns. Dorian simply scoffed and said that he'd only do this if he could take them all on at once, and only if he didn't have to hold back. He wouldn't kill them of course, but small injuries were fine. Before Cullen could disagree the soldiers had spread out and circled the mage, who only chuckled.

 

One minute fourteen seconds. Thirty soldiers had lasted one minute and fourteen seconds. Cullen honestly couldn't believe it. One minute Dorian was laughing as his soldiers surrounded him, and then it was a blur of iced claws and a frost trail weaving in between his unconscious people. And the trail was even designed in the shapes of the Inquisition's insignia. In the middle stood Dorian, buffing his nails on his robe and chuckling to himself. Cullen didn't know what to say, and as he finally noticed the crowd that had gathered (too quickly for his liking) they weren't even sure what just happened. And to top if off Dorian had simply turned to Cullen and asked if he had more soldiers he dance with. One minute fourteen _fucking_ seconds.

 

\--- 

 

Of course once Evelyn found out the residents of Skyhold held their breath. There had been a trial at the request of the beaten and bruised soldiers and most everyone was in attendance. Evelyn had tried her absolute hardest to look stern when she ordered Dorian to never repeat the incident, and she hated him for a moment. The bastard was biting his bottom lip and clenching his fists at his sides. To an onlooker he appeared to be furious, but Evelyn knew him well enough to know that he was a word away from laughing uncontrollably, and he even had the nerve to look her in the eye whilst doing so. Maker's breath, even Josephine land Cullen looked moments away from giggling as the trial proceeded. When it was over she ordered Dorian to her chambers to further discuss the incident, and the door barely closed before they lost it.

 

“You absolute bastard!” Evelyn cried as she clutched her side, “Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep a straight face down there?”

 

Dorian's only response was laugh harder and point out the smug looks of the soldiers, and the spent the next while giggling like idiots. Once they'd calmed down, Evelyn put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

 

“I'm proud of you, you know. It's about time you stuck up for yourself, even if it was a little drastic.”

 

Dorian smiled warmly in response. “I suppose it was, yes. And thank you for not interfering _this time_.”

 

She of course knew exactly what he was referring to, and gave a sheepish smile to show it. “I know. Please know that I am sorry about hiding your father's letter. I swear I never meant to hurt you.”

 

“I know Evy, I know. It still hurt though.” was Dorian's sullen response.

 

Evelyn picked them both up and guided them to her bed, patting next to where she'd sat. Dorian obediently took the offering. “Is that why it looks like you're a different person recently?” she asked, putting an arm around his shoulder.

 

“No, no,” he replied quickly, too quickly. “That was something completely different and entirely my own fault. And we'll not be discussing it.” he added quickly, hoping she'd listen for once.

 

“That's fine,” she said warmly, “but you clearly have a lot of anger to work out, so I was wondering if you wanted to come dragon hunting will me, Cole, and Bull?” She made sure to pull out her puppy eyes as she asked, knowing her 'Vint had a weakness for them. Luckily this perked the mage up and he gave a soft smile.

 

“I suppose so. After all who will keep you in one piece for the commander if I don't go?”

 

\--- 

 

The Iron Bull was excited. No, ecstaticwas more appropriate he decided. All this time in Ferelden and they were finally going after a fucking dragon! He'd spent half a day sharpening his axe for the occasion. Although the event would have been more exciting if Trevelyan didn't insist on bring Cole and Dorian along too. But he was in a good enough mood that he could ignore them, even if his nose did twitch in Dorian's direction occasionally.

 

As they made their way to the clearing where the dragon had been sighted Bull couldn't help but notice that the dragonlings would always go for Dorian. And judging from how they slowed when they got close, they weren't trying to attack him. If anything, he swore they were trying to _nuzzle_ him. And dragon blood or no, that shit was weird. Dorian seemed equally bothered by the act and he quickly cut down the young dragons when they got too close.

 

When they approached the dragon itself Bull was almost drooling. The creature was magnificent with it's gold and green stripes, ridiculously large horn, and wings that blocked out the sun. And when it screeched in notice of their presence he could admit his cock twitched. This was going to be awesome.

 

As the fight progressed Bull noticed the dragon seemed to be acting weird. It wasn't being particularly vicious, seemed more defensive than anything. He got his answer when they were all thrown backwards by a continuous flap of its wings. Dorian had thrown himself to the side to avoid the gust, and once they were separated the damn thing stood over the mage and screeched at them. That's when it hit Bull; the damn thing was protecting Dorian from _them_. Bull looked to the mage and the wide eyes he met told him that he'd figured it out as well. What the fuck were they supposed to do now? Unfortunately, the Inquisitor and Cole had gotten back up and taken in the scene.

 

“Dorian,” she asked far too calmly, “is that dragon _mothering_ you?” When the man didn't answer she turned to Cole. “Cole, can you read a dragon's mind?”

 

Apparently the spirit was one step ahead of her, locking eyes with the beast. He didn't look happy. “Killed them, can smell their blood on him. Why did he hurt his siblings? They only wanted to play with him, were curious as to his shape. Why does he bring these things here to hurt his family? But he's us, so I'll protect him, have to keep the child safe from the one with horns, can smell them on each other. But the horned one is bad, covered in our blood. Have to protect.”

 

Well fuck. That wasn't how Bull planned on that secret getting out. In fact he wasn't planning on letting it out at all. If the curses coming from Dorian were any indication he carried a similar plan.

 

“ _Vehendis_ , boy! Do you not know the meaning of the word subtle?!”

 

The worst part Bull decided, was how remorseful the kid actually looked. “But she was hurting, and loud, and no one told me not to say it. I didn't mean to make you hurt Dorian.”

 

Hurt? Shit, this was getting to be a dangerous topic, so Bull did the only thing he could think of. He picked up a rather large rock and chucked at the dragon, getting it clean in the eye. As the dragon screeched and charged he wondered if Boss would forget this whole thing happened. He had a sinking feeling she wouldn't.

 

\--- 

 

Dorian was not happy. No, that wasn't accurate enough; he was fucking _livid_. If he didn't enjoy the boy's company he would have shoved a piece of ice through his throat... for all the good it would do. The little shit would just disappear and show up later all sad and doe-eyed. And Dorian would forgive him, like always. He could teach the boy himself he supposed, it was really the only way he'd learn. Trevelyan on the other hand was not to easily deterred. She was currently behind him asking Hissrad question after question after question, and fortunately the man refused to answer a single one. She had given up asking Dorian when the air around them took a turn for the cold.

 

Oh Maker's sweaty ass she knew. This of course would lead to Cullen knowing, and he would tell Cassandra, who would be overheard by Varric, who would tell everyone he could. Vivienne, Blackwall and Sera would have a fucking field day. Solas would become impossibly smug and make quips about it, and the common soldier... well he simply wasn't going to go there. One migraine was enough thank you.

 

One good thing about the day was that Evelyn didn't grill him on why the dragon had called him one of her own. She had seemingly forgotten it once Cole revealed his dirty little secret. He never thought he'd be grateful for it, but he would apologize for when they made camp. He was nothing if not polite.

 

Of course he was proven correct some weeks later when Evy marched him to the Western approach to meet with some researcher along with Solas and Vivienne. They'd been trudging through the sands when Vivienne cleared her throat.

 

“So Dorian,” she purred, “I have to question your tactics in Seheron. Did you kill your enemies or simply sleep with them until they could no long fight?”

 

Dorian barked out a laugh in response. “Why, can you offer tips? Because you really shouldn't you know, the younger whores might catch on and replace you.” He couldn't help but smirk when she turned on her heel to glare at him, and oh what a glare it was. He could feel the magic rising under her skin and he couldn't subdue the accomplished feeling in his guts. He put on a concerned expression. “Do you need to stop and rest Viv? I know a woman of your age can hardly be expected to keep up with us younger folk, and we're more than happy to wait whilst you catch your breath.”

 

The wind suddenly died out as if sensing the tension, and the only sound to be heard was the crackle of lighting under Vivienne's fingertips. The Inquisitor and Solas were both speechless from shock, which Dorian appreciated. However the crackling soon stopped as well, and the enchanter's glare smoothed into a look of reluctant appreciation. Without a word she spun back around and resumed her easy pace, though Dorian noticed she was moving just a bit faster than before. He loved to win.

 

He was wondering if Solas would have the courage to say something. The elf had been quieter than usual for the remainder of the day. It unnerved Dorian. On one hand the man could simply know not to pick a fight, but Dorian suspected he was simply biding his time, letting the Tevinter get comfortable before striking. He loved being right.

 

When they'd set up camp and had their meal the Inquisitor and Vivienne had ushered into their tent, leaving Solas and Dorian alone by the fire. The Tevinter may have been relaxed, but was in no way unprepared when Solas spoke up.

 

“The Iron Bull, Dorian? And here I thought you were a man of taste, above us commoners and savages.” Dorian chuckled in reply. Oh this was glorious. It had taken him four sleepless days of research into elven lore and history to figure out Solas' secret. Of course he'd only known what to look for when he noticed a lingering smell of wet dog following the elf, no matter how much the man bathed (which Dorian suspected was very little).

 

“You think I know nothing about you, don't you elf?” he asked with a smirk. Solas quirked an eyebrow as if to say, _do tell_. And Dorian only needed one word, but one was never enough for him. “Let's just say it would be a shame if Mythal got free and found out what a bad doggy you've been.” The effect had been instantaneous. Solas' face completely closed off.

 

“And what would you know, Tevinter?” he spat quietly. Dorian laughed and stood to head to his tent. Just before he entered he looked over his shoulder and met the elf's eyes.

 

“Enough to know that mutts shouldn't pick fights with dragons.”

 

\--- 

 

Bull was panicking. He knew this should be a good thing, but every instinct he had told him it was bad, so fucking bad. The fucking _Qun,_ why would they ask for an alliance now? It made absolutely no sense. His reports hadn't been lacking for either side, and as far as he knew both parties were impressed with his performance.

 

Unless they weren't. Unless the Qun had somehow figured out that Dorian was with them and they wanted to ensure Bull's loyalty. No, that wasn't it. He was the only Ben Hassrath here, and he hadn't mentioned the mage in his reports, so why now? What could they stand to gain? Were they simply afraid he was getting too personal with his new assignment? Because he was pretty sure the re-educators had fixed that, painful as it had been. He didn't deny that it hurt not to be trusted, and he hadn't bothered to hide his discomfort when he brought the deal to her attention. She mirrored his curiosity but agreed to meet with them anyway.

 

Which was how the two of them had ended up on the Storm Coast with Cassandra and _Dorian_ of all people. When everyone involved had questioned his coming, the Inquisitor had simply pointed out Dorian's knowledge of both Tevinter and Qunari tactics, and the three companions fumed when they couldn't fault her logic.

 

So here they were, all soaking wet and waiting for their informant. When the man arrived, Bull was sure the Gods were out to get him. It had to be Gatt didn't it? Leave it to a society of logical thinkers to pull a fucking guilt trip on their own. The only way this could get worse was if Dorian opened his mouth... which he of course did.

 

“Well slap my arse and call me Andraste! Is that you Gatt?” And did the man really have to sound so pleased?

 

“Pavus?!” Gatt hissed in response, and as he went for his daggers Bull stepped in front of him. “Get out of my way Hissrad.”

 

“Hissrad?” Gods, did Trevelyan really have to do this now?

 

“His name,” Dorian supplied with a smirk.

 

“There are no names under the Qun, Pavus. Or have you gotten stupid in your free time?” Gatt replied before turning to the Inquisitor. “Hissrad is his title.”

 

“Oh yes,” Dorian said with a grin, “My mistake Viddath.” Bull couldn't hope for a hole big enough to swallow him.

 

“I am Viddathari, mage!”

 

“Indeed, but the viddath bit is still there, isn't it? How does it feel knowing no matter what you do the Qun will always think of you as a useless thing?”

 

Bull was never more grateful for his reflexes as he barely managed to restrain Gatt. Could this get any more awkward? As fate would have it, it could and _would_.

 

“What does Hissrad mean?”

 

\---

 

Tal-Vashoth. Tal-Va _Fucking_ shoth. He was Tal-Vashoth. Hissrad, the title he'd always known, and taken with pride, the thousands of people he'd killed in the name of the Qun... all nothing. Worthless little pieces of information that used to mean so much, that were his life, and now he was a Tal-Vashoth.

 

Bull emptied the mug in his hands in one go. He'd lost count of how much he'd drank, and that was no easy task. Luckily Krem had gotten that he needed some time alone and had ushered the Chargers away, giving their chief the peace he needed.

 

He as glad it was late, he thought it was late anyway. At any rate the tavern was empty and he liked it. It let him drown himself in his sorrows and try to piece together some semblance of... well, anything. He was so lost he didn't even hear the footsteps approaching until a smack on the table caught his attention. He looked up sluggishly to see an impressively large bottle of something Ferelden and Dorian taking the seat across from him. Neither man spoke for minutes before Dorian let loose a gentle whisper.

 

“You're Tal-Vashoth.” If Bull were himself he would have laughed at the depressing sympathy in Dorian's voice. Right now though, he couldn't be bothered.

 

“Yup.” was his equally quiet response. The tavern grew quiet once again as both men drank, neither knowing what to say. It seemed as though ages had passed before Dorian spoke up again.

 

“The Chargers are worth the title,” he said gently, “you shouldn't push them away, especially not your lieutenant. Family always makes stuff like this easier.”

 

Bull looked up, not believing the words he as hearing. “I didn't become Tal-Vashoth for the Chargers, fond of them as I am.” he deadpanned. Dorian looked uneasy.

 

“The Inquisition then. It deserves your full attention.”

 

“I didn't become Tal-Vashoth for the Inquisition either,” Bull shot back. Now Dorian looked scared. Until he didn't. Then he just looked defeated.

 

“Please don't say it.”

 

“I have to.”

 

“No!” Dorian hissed, “not now. You don't get to do this now!”

 

Bull ignored him and took a breath. “I became Tal-Vashoth for _you._ ”

 

The sudden sob that wrenched itself from the mage broke Bull. He knew it hurt, especially given their past, but it _needed_ to be said, the impact had to be made. “You broke me,” Bull continued. “Shattered everything I knew into a thousand tiny pieces and put your own mark on every one. And not even the re-educators could make me like I was before. I almost gave it up for you then, and I did give it up for you this time.” Bull stood up from the table. “Now help me forget for a night... please.”

 

\--- 

 

Dorian took his time. Their previous encounter had been nothing but anger and lust reaching a peak, a reunion of sorts. This though, this comfort and sorrow, and had to be treated as such. Bull, and that's who the man was now, stood perfectly still; eyes closed and body pliant, and it hurt Dorian to see him that way.

 

He took him time undressing the Qunari, slowly tracing his fingers over muscle as he removed those hideous trousers. “Lay on the bed, on your back,” he whispered, and he couldn't help but be disturbed when his partner obeyed without question. Pushing the feeling away he proceeded to remove his own clothes and moved to straddle The Bull. Luckily the man under him still had his reflexes, as hands covered his hips the moment he settled. The man was looking up a him now, and his eye screamed _make me whole_. Dorian could only hope his own eyes said _I'll try_.

 

It must have worked, as Bull surged up and claimed his mouth and wasted no time working his tongue in. When he felt the erection rub over his entrance he let of a soft “Bull” into the man's mouth. Said man pulled back and took on a serious expression.

 

“No,” he murmured, “not Bull, not with you. Always Hissrad for you.” Dorian chuckled in response before wiggling his hips to capture the barest hint of friction. He almost whined when one of Bull's, no, _Hissrad's_ hands left his hip. He was about to complain when he realized the man was reaching for the oil. He made to reach for it himself but a low growl had him looping his arms around the Qunari's neck instead.

 

All too soon he heard the familiar pop of a cork and soon there was a blunt pressure twisting its way inside him, and _vehendis_ it was amazing. He pushed back seeking more and wasn't disappointed when a second finger quickly joined the first. Soon enough the brute had found his prostate and he wailed, head thrown back. Bull let loose another growl and starting sucking and biting the neck offered, and not long after a third finger joined it brothers. That delicious pressure on his prostate was soon taken away as the finger slipped out and he felt something much larger.

 

Dorian knew he was about to be fucked, and he gladly welcomed it, but Hissrad needed him to be in control, needed the momentary guidance, so he reached back and grabbed the teasing appendage, giving it a gentle squeeze. The larger man took the hint with a soft smile and placed his hands on Dorian's thighs, and ever so slowly the smaller man sank. He purposely took his time, working carefully down each inch; not because it hurt, Dorian had a very high tolerance for pain. No, he went slow as a message, to show his lover that nothing had to be rushed. A bit silly, comparing sex to life, but a shaky sigh and one watering eye told him that man understood.

 

When he reached the base he stilled, and his face was pulled forward for a soft kiss. “Who am I?” he was asked softly.

 

“You're Hissrad.” Dorian replied, just as softly. “You're _my_ Hissrad, the same stupid ox I loved in Seheron, even if you don't have the Qun.” He lifted his hips slightly and began a slow rhythm back and forth. “You're The Iron Bull, a man who frets over his Chargers and likes slapping red heads on the ass, and gets an erection hearing a dragon screech.” He paused to accept another soft kiss. “But you're _you_ above all that, and if you don't know what that means then you can take your time and figure it out. Andraste knows I'm not the same as back then.”

 

He silenced whatever reply Hissrad may have formed with a deep kiss, and he picked up the pace with his hips. And if his man grabbed those hips rather roughly and helped him along, well, he'd tell him off in the morning.

 

\--- 

 

When Dorian woke up that next morning it wasn't the same. His eyes had to be forced open instead of springing to life, his body was relaxed and pliant in place of battle-ready. And this time he wasn't mad, didn't want to cry or scream, no, this time was different.

 

He was different, the man snoring into his hair was different. But the most important change was in circumstance. Dorian was no longer the angry, bitter person he was when they'd last fucked, and Hissrad was no longer a slave to the Qun's hive mind. It was nice... at least until his hair got caught in the ox's nose and he sneezed over Dorian's head.

 

“I will torture you in ways the Qunari could never dream up,” he said, a falsely calm voice.

 

“Qunari don't dream, remember?” was the groggy reply. “Gatt was right, you are getting stupid in your free time.”

 

“Savage.”

 

“Vint.”

 

“Oxman.”

 

“Pretty boy.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

Hissrad laughed into his hair. “Well if last night was how you treat people you hate then I think I can live with it.”

 

“You're an idiot.”

 

“Yeah, but I'm pretty so it works out okay.”

 

Dorian couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled in his throat, and he didn't want to.

 

\---

 

Assassins. Dorian fucking loved assassins. He really did. Loved them to the point where they became his favorite game outside of hunting venatori. He'd never admit it, but once he'd given Hissrad's situation some thought he could have squealed. Of course the Qun would send assassins after Hissrad. And himself, obviously. Sometimes he thought they sent people after him just so they'd get killed. The Qun as fucked up like that.

 

So it was just his luck that they'd strike while he was out with Evelyn, Hissrad, and Sera. They were back in the Hinterlands looking for some mercenary fortress when he caught the scent; qamek. He'd know that smell anywhere, and a glance in Hissrad's direction told him he'd caught it too.

 

“Evelyn,” he started, voice disturbingly cheery, “we're about to be attacked by the Qun's assassins. Do you think you and Sera could sit this one out? I'd never forgive myself if either of you got hurt.”

 

A snort from his left had him glaring at his lover. “Yeah right, you just want them all to yourself.”

 

“I have no idea hat you mean Hissrad,” he lied, “I'm simply looking out for our dear Inquisitor and whatever Sera is.”

 

Said elf suddenly perked up. “Oi! Shut it Fancy! And what assas--” She was cut off by an arrow flying past her ear. She turned and let out panicked noise. “Shit! Assassins! Why didn't you tell us there were assassins?!”

 

Before Dorian could respond Hissrad spoke up. “He did. Boss, take Sera and get to cover, we'll handle these assholes.” Thankfully Evelyn did so with a short nod, dragging a complaining Sera with her. Soon enough, a group casually exited the thicket behind them (thirteen he counted) and lined up.

 

Dorian noticed the group consisted of only humans and elves. It seemed the Qun was catching on to his little abnormality, but that was fine; he didn't need his opponents distracted when he could blur past them.

 

The tallest one, a human, stepped forward and glared at the two men. “By personal order of the Arishok himself you two pests are to be put to death. Have you any last words?”

 

Dorian cackled obnoxiously. “Yes,” he replied, “next time don't stand around talking.” He snapped his fingers and there was one less assassin, turned to ice by a cleverly placed mine. Yes, he thought, they really did send him the rejects.

 

\--- 

 

The Iron Bull sighed as he strapped his axe back into place. He loved a good fight as much as the next man, but it did hurt a little to have people you once called friends try and kill you. Granted, he hadn't known any of the assassins, but still.

 

At least he didn't have to worry about Dorian. No matter the situation his mage, and he was his, could take care of himself. Ho looked over to see the man chatting with the Inquisitor and slapping away Sera's finger when she angrily poked him. Bull assumed it was some misguided anger at not being warned of assassins, even though they did warn them. At the last second, yes, but they _were_ warned. He took pity on his lover and cleared his throat.

 

“Dorian, you did good with those guys. Think they figured out that dragon blood thing though.” At the mention of dragon blood all three heads snapped toward him. Sera and Evelyn shared a look of pure confusion, but Dorian was dawning a glare that could have a pack of bears backing away. He wasn't sure why the man was mad though until the Inquisitor spoke up.

 

“Dragon blood?”

 

Oh. Right. They didn't know about that.

 

Oops.

 

\--- 

 

Dorian was nervous. No, not nervous; terrified. There was no other way of putting it. After a session of 'what am I fucking you with' (damn that ox for being creative) Hissrad had casually asked him too meet the Chargers over drinks the next evening. And like a fool Dorian said yes. Which was how he ended up pacing outside the tavern like some blushing date. That thought stopped him in his tracks. Vehendis, _was_ this a date? He'd never been on one so he wasn't sure, and Dorian hated not knowing. He almost turned and walked away when the door was pushed open and a familiar set of horns appeared.

 

“Are you going to come drink with me, or would you rather finish digging that trench first?” Hissrad drawled. Dorian had the decency to flush and lowered his head.

 

“I'm nervous,” he muttered, “what if they don't like me, or they think I used some bizarre blood ritual to befriend you?”

 

The giant bastard had the audacity to laugh. “You, Dorian Pavus, are nervous?” Hissrad asked with a teasing grin. “Mister 'I don't care if those fog warriors know a thousand different way to kill me, I'm not touching them until they bathe' is nervous at the thought of meeting his lover's mercenary group?”

 

Dorian scowled. “Don't act so high and mighty, you didn't want to have to touch them either.” He then frowned. “Do they know about our... arrangement?”

 

“Of course they do,” Hissrad replied, as if Dorian were insane for asking, “I don't like to keep secrets from the boys.”

 

Oh. Well, that made things much easier. In place of a reply he simply let himself be ushered inside and the the table, pointedly ignoring the smirks as he was led by the hand.

 

\--- 

 

He liked the Chargers, he decided later. They were easy going, didn't make a bunch of stupid 'Vint jokes, and didn't make one mention of his and Hissrad's... relationship? Was that what it was? He'd decide later.

 

So of course something had to spoil what might be a good night. The dwarf of the group (he'd smack himself later for not remembering the man's name) had asked if he had any lusty tales of Tevinter to keep a lonely man warm at night.

 

“Why does everyone assume I sleep around just because I'm from Tevinter?” he asked in response. “I'll have you know I've only ever slept with one man.”

 

He honestly didn't register the mouthful of ale being spit into his face for a few brief seconds. Then of course he slowly turned his head to meet a pale-- paler Hissrad, mouth gaping. “Was that absolutely necessary you fucking savage?!”

 

Hissrad ignored him. “What do you mean you've only ever slept with one person?” the Qunari asked, no hint of humor in his voice.

 

For some reason Dorian found this more annoying than the ale, which he had yet to wipe from his face. “I mean I have only engaged in intercourse with one person. Honestly, why did the Ben-Hassrath ever think you were smart enough to be a spy?”

 

That had apparently broken whatever spell had taken Hissrad, who had relaxed his face and even looked sheepish. “Sorry about your face,” he muttered, and Maker's ass, was the man blushing?

 

Luckily Dalish saved the day by clearing her throat and pointing a finger at Dorian, making a small circle to signify his face. “So is that how sex with him ends then?”

 

Dorian had never laughed so hard in his life.

 

\--- 

 

Later that night he was led to Hissrad's room and gently placed on the bed. But instead of joining him the Qunari simply sat on the edge and faced him.

 

“Did you mean that?”

 

“Of course not,” Dorian scoffed, “you never get it _all_ over my face.” Apparently his lover hadn't appreciated the obvious deflection.

 

“Dorian.”

 

“Yes.” Dorian replied quietly. “Yes, you are the only man I have ever slept with, and the only one I want to.”

 

Hissrad didn't respond, simply moved further onto the bed and rested on hands and knees above Dorian.

 

“I love you.” Dorian stated, soft and simple.

 

“I love you too.” was the equally simply reply, and Dorian stiffened. They'd played this scene before, and he wasn't sure he wanted to finish, but knew he had to.

 

“And is that a problem?” he asked, voice a shaky whisper. He visibly relaxed when Hissrad smiled softly.

 

“You know, it turns out it's not.”

 

 


End file.
